Six minutes in a dry skillet with oil, a smashed clove, salt. Tear the bread with your hands — never cube it with a knife, the ragged edges are the whole point.
They go the color of a paper bag. Four hundred years of Italian grandmothers have called it poor man's parmesan.
Cost: nothing. It keeps a week in a jar and turns any sad bowl of anything into a dish with a top note.
Aran — bread.
What did your grandmother refuse to throw away?
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